Dinner At Cheryl's Place
by Red Witch
Summary: When you eat with the Figgis Agency, you get dinner and a show.


** The disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters has gone out to dinner. This is more madness in my Cheryl's Place storyline. Just crazy ideas I have when nothing is on TV. **

**Dinner At Cheryl's Place **

"Ray, I love it when it's your night to cook," Pam gave out a satisfied sigh as she finished up her meal.

"It was rather enjoyable wasn't it?" Krieger agreed. Pam, Cheryl, Ray, Krieger, Cyril and Ron were feasting in the luxurious dining room at Cheryl's mansion in Beverly Hills.

"Salad, cornbread, rolls, mini meatballs in sauce, pasta with shrimp, parmesan risotto, veal cutlets in wine sauce," Pam grinned. "Green bean casserole. And a heaping helping of potato au gratin."

"Not to mention a vat full of my crazy aunt's good wine," Cheryl giggled as she took a sip of wine.

"My compliments to the chef," Cyril grinned as he finished a bite of veal.

"Thank you very much," Ray grinned.

"I tell ya, Ray," Ron said. "I haven't eaten this good since I ate at Keens Steakhouse the last time I was in New York!"

"He, he…" Cheryl held a veal cutlet in her fork and played with it. "I used to be a happy calf! Adorable and stuck in a crate! And now I've been sliced into cutlets and I'm gonna be digested in a vat of stomach acid! NOOOO! HA HA HA!"

"I could do without the commentary however," Ron remarked.

"Well I can't help **that**," Ray sighed. "Well I could if I had some duct tape but…"

"We find it's easier if Cheryl just plays with her food a bit," Pam sighed. "Keeps her occupied."

"This is nice," Cyril said as he sipped some wine. "Just relaxing. Having a good meal. With good friends."

"Yeah," Pam quipped. "Now all you have to do is **find** some good friends!"

"Ziiing!" Ray called out cheerfully.

"Well since I can't find any," Cyril shot back. "I'll have to make do with **you people**! Zing!"

"Was that really a zing?" Pam asked.

"I believe it was," Ray admitted. "It counts."

Cyril sighed contentedly. "This is one of the few rare nights where life is good. I feel like I can enjoy myself."

"I get what you mean," Ray agreed. "We're living in a lovely mansion in Beverly Hills. We currently have a job. And we had a good meal. Life is good today."

"Well as nice as this is you can't rely on the present," Ron said. "Especially with your business being the way it is."

"What do you mean?" Cyril asked.

"Uh Ron," Pam coughed. "This isn't really the time to…"

Ron ignored her. "You guys really need to think about what you want to do with your lives. Make plans for the future."

"My only plans involve glue, drugs, booze and a fire in the near future," Cheryl shrugged. "I'm stinking rich. I'm good!"

"As long as I'm in a lab and doing an unholy experiment with very little or no boundaries…" Krieger paused. "Me too."

"I've already achieved my dreams of graduating college, winning several eating contests, traveling the world, going to outer space and not living with my family," Pam said. "To be honest, anything else is just gravy."

"Okay fine," Ron sighed. "But what about you two guys?"

"What about us?" Ray looked at Cyril for a moment and then at Ron.

"Ron uh…" Pam coughed. "You need to drop this."

"You guys need to make plans for the future," Ron said. "Like a one-year plan. A five-year plan."

"Oh right!" Ray said sarcastically. "Because those work out **real well!" **

"You think I should make plans?" Cyril was stunned. "I should **make plans**? My whole life has been nothing but plans and look where it got me!"

"**Heartache!"** Ray shouted. "That's where it gets you! Heartache! And misery!"

"Endless misery that never ends!" Cyril added. "And leaves you with broken promises of a future you will never have staring right into your face **mocking you**!"

"Here we go," Pam sighed.

"The 6:50 Hysteria Express," Krieger groaned. "Right on time."

"I'm getting dinner and a show, aren't I?" Ron asked.

"I tried to warn you," Pam sighed.

"This is gonna be good," Cheryl giggled.

"**Plans?"** Ray snapped. "I had plans, Ron! Big plans! I was going to be an Olympic athlete with a gold medal in Giant Slalom! I was going to be famous!"

"You **were?**" Ron blinked. "What's a Giant Slalom?"

"It's where you jump off a really big slide while wearing skis," Cheryl explained. "Flying through the air like a rocket. The potential for either glory or breaking every bone in your body. Damn. Now I want to do it!"

"For years I trained and worked so hard," Ray grumbled. "I starved my body to perfection! And for what? For **what**?"

"For you to bitch about it every chance you get?" Cyril groaned.

"That was going to be my ticket not only out of Ferlin but to fame and fortune," Ray grumbled. "Okay it got me out of Ferlin. But let's face it. A ten-dollar bus ticket could do that. But I could have been **famous!** Maybe even gotten a job as a sports commentator?"

"Are you going to whine about **that** all night?" Cyril snapped. "Seriously Ray, that wasn't going to happen."

"It **could** have!" Ray snapped.

"No, it **couldn't!**" Cyril snapped. "Even if you won the gold! Being famous for Giant Slalom is not a **thing**!"

"Well it was to **me!**" Ray snapped.

"You want to talk about _ruined plans?"_ Cyril snapped. "I'll tell you about ruined plans! My **whole life** is a series of ruined plans!"

"He's not wrong," Cheryl agreed.

"And now the other one has to talk…" Pam sighed as she drank some wine.

"When I became a lawyer, I had a **five-year** plan!" Cyril said. "Become a well-respected defense attorney. Get married. Maybe become a judge in the circuit court?"

"Instead you're more likely to stand before a judge in the circuit court," Ray snarked.

"At least my dream was **plausible**!" Cyril snapped.

"You said you were going to get _married_," Pam remarked. "Doesn't sound plausible to me."

"At least Ray's is a little more interesting," Cheryl said. "He could have actually **died **during his dream!"

"So could I!" Cyril snapped. "My clients kept trying to stab me or set me on fire when we lost!"

"Ooh," Cheryl perked up. "Now Cyril is ahead."

"Being in the Olympics was supposed to be when my life **really began!"** Ray sniffed. "Instead it turned into the same mess of failures it always was!"

"I'm guessing you didn't win the gold," Ron remarked.

"No," Ray sniffed. "I only won bronze! I trained so hard! WAHHHH!"

"Hey, kid come on now," Ron said. "It's not that bad! At least you **got** to the Olympics! I tried out for track once and Jesse Owens kicked my ass!"

"You want to make God laugh Ron?" Cyril groaned. "Tell him your plans. That will make him laugh. Because he knows that's when the universe decides to screw with you!"

"He does do that a lot with the two of you," Pam remarked.

"You noticed that too?" Cheryl asked.

"And then when being a lawyer failed after nearly five years of having a dead-end public defender job," Cyril snapped. "I made more plans! I **planned** to become an accountant. I **planned** to work in a respectable firm. I **planned **to become a manager and get married after five years. GUESS HOW **THAT **TURNED OUT RON?"

"I wanted the gold so bad!" Ray sobbed. "So bad I could taste it! But the closest I could get was sleeping with one of the gold medalists in the luge!"

"I would have thought it was figure skating," Krieger remarked. "Eh, now that I think about it…"

"I knew I should have gone to Lehman Brothers," Cyril grumbled. "But nooo! I had to go for the glamour of working at a spy agency. An **illegal **spy agency!"

"You just **had** to bring up plans didn't you Ron?" Pam groaned.

"You should never do that with people whose hopes and dreams have crashed and burned into a million different pieces," Cheryl said. "Even I know that!"

"I can hear my father now," Ray groaned. Then he spoke in a deep angry voice. _"Great the little fruit bat can't even win the __**only thing**__ he's good at! Besides disappointing me!" _

Then Cyril made a deep funny voice. "_Well at least __**your son**__ can do something. Unlike mine who has no talent for anything!" _

"_At least your son is straight!" _Ray added. _"Unlike my precious little Tinkerbell!" _

"_Mine might as well be gay!" _Cyril added. _"Lord knows I'm not exactly knee deep in grandchildren!" _

"I am so sorry," Ron groaned. "I didn't know."

"Yeah well…" Pam sighed as she took a drink.

Ray went on. _"At least yours is still human and not part trash compactor!_ Which probably what the old bastard would say if he was still alive. Thank God he's dead."

"Oh sure!" Cyril snapped. "Rub **that **in my face!"

"Phrasing!" Cheryl giggled.

"Come on guys," Krieger said. "You've both accomplished a lot in your lives."

"They **have?**" Pam asked.

"Cyril has a ton of degrees and certifications," Krieger remarked. "Coming from a guy who doesn't even have one, that's impressive."

"Wait a minute," Ron did a double take. "Aren't **you **a doctor?"

"Not legally," Pam told him.

"So, when I asked Krieger to look at that mole on my neck?" Ron blinked.

"You were taking your life into **his hands**," Pam gave Ron a look.

"It's probably fine," Krieger waved. "But yeah Ron, if I were you, I'd get a second opinion. Just to be safe."

"Great…" Ron groaned.

"And Ray," Krieger added. "You were not only in the Olympics, one of the most sacred and cherished sports events in the world. You actually placed!"

"He lost," Cheryl said.

"I came in **third!**" Ray snapped. "In the world!"

"Two places behind the winner," Cheryl added.

"It's technically not losing if you get a medal," Krieger pointed out.

"YEAH!" Ray snapped.

"You've both travelled the world," Krieger added. "Been to both outer and inner space. And you were both spies for a time. Okay the agency was illegal and did a lot of illegal shit but still…"

"Krieger's right," Ray sighed. "We shouldn't dwell on what we lost. But what we have. We have done a lot in our lives."

"You're right," Cyril said. "We're not doing that badly if you think about it."

"Yeah," Ray said. "We're doing pretty well with our lives!"

"Pretty well?" Cyril said. "I'd say we're doing great!"

"At least we're not in a coma," Ray mused.

"We aren't!" Cyril added. "Technically you were once, Ray."

"For less than a week," Cheryl spoke up. "He didn't milk it like Archer did. I'll give him that."

"I know I've gotten a lot further than most people said I would go," Ray added. "They laughed at me when I said I dreamt of living in either New York or LA!"

"I wanted to do that too!" Cyril realized. "And my father said those dreams were unrealistic!"

"Who's laughing now, bitches?" Ray snapped. "We've done **both!**"

"Yeah!" Cyril added. "We did what we wanted to do with our lives! What have **you **done?"

"Besides getting blown up in a meth lab explosion because you just had to have a cigarette!" Ray snapped. "All the people who laughed at me are either dead, in prison or stuck in a dead-end job at the Piggly Wiggly!"

"Suck on it, haters!" Cyril added. "Cyril Figgis is doing just fine!"

"And so is Ray Gillette!" Ray added. "And our love lives are not a disaster!"

"No, they are **not!"** Cyril added.

"Well now you're both in denial," Krieger said.

"Oh, that's rich!" Ray snapped. "This is from Mr. I Can't Even Get Commit To A Hologram Who I Programmed To Love Me?"

"I admit I have some commitment issues," Krieger shrugged.

"More like you have issues you should be committed for," Cyril grumbled.

"Okay! Let's change the topic to something more cheerful before somebody stabs someone else," Pam spoke up. "Something less argumentative. Like politics or religion or something."

"I just wondered something," Ron said. "How long does it take for you guys to become detectives?"

"Oh God Ron what are you **doing** to us?" Cyril snapped.

"That is a good question," Pam realized. "We've been at this for what? A year? I'm just guessing here. I really don't know."

"That does sound like a good guess considering what we **do know**," Cheryl nodded. "Could be longer depending on how this coma thing plays out."

"Look you guys need two thousand hours to qualify for your licenses," Cyril said.

"It feels like **two thousand years** since we started this," Pam groaned.

"I know right?" Cheryl asked.

"And considering we haven't exactly had that many clients," Cyril added. "Or more than half the jobs we did get got screwed up or were downright illegal so they don't count…"

"We're nowhere **near **getting enough hours for our certification!" Ray said.

"To be fair," Cyril admitted. "You're still closer than Archer. I may not have exactly given him all his hours he did earn. Not that he earned all that much to begin with but…."

"What do you mean?" Ray asked. "How much did you give him?"

Cyril paused. "Fifteen minutes. What? It's the lowest amount of allotted time!"

Ray blinked. "I feel better now."

"Hang on," Pam held up her hand. "You only gave Archer **fifteen lousy minutes** out of all those times we were working?"

"We didn't work **that much**," Cyril pointed out. "And nine times out of ten Archer completely screwed up!"

Pam paused. "That's fair. But what about the rest of us? Like the time we were held hostage by clowns? That time counts right?"

"I gave some hours to the rest of you," Cyril said. "And none to Archer because I kind of decided to blame him for the bean bags."

"That was Shapiro's fault!" Krieger pointed out.

"Well I couldn't withhold hours from Shapiro, could I?" Cyril snapped.

"How many hours **do** we have?" Pam asked.

"Well I don't have my ledger on me at this moment," Cyril said. "But I know except for Archer and Cheryl, everybody else has at least fifty to eighty."

"Jesus we're gonna be stuck in this dead-end job **forever!**" Pam groaned.

"Wait, why didn't I get any hours?" Cheryl asked.

"Because you're technically a **client,"** Cyril explained. "_Remember?_ You pay protection money every month! And extra money for us to watch this house!"

"You guys are getting **paid** to live here?" Ron did a double take.

"Pretty sweet huh?" Pam snickered.

"Do I get hours?" Krieger asked.

"Yes Krieger," Cyril sighed. "I gave you some hours because you work on things at the agency and were with us for a lot of our missions. And with Archer gone we need all the hands we can get."

"I'm good," Krieger grinned. "I have plenty of extra hands."

"Just ask Ray," Cheryl added. Ray gave her a dirty look.

Krieger went on. "Especially since we have more hours than Archer."

"That is a bonus," Pam admitted.

Ray groaned. "Knowing Archer, he'd probably think his time in the coma **counts!" **

"He would," Pam nodded.

Cyril sighed. "I admit it. After the first three months I decided to give everybody else an extra hour. Just to piss Archer off."

Pam nodded. "I'm good."

"Me too," Ray nodded.

Cyril took a drink. "It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you guys got certified as detectives before Archer woke up."

"If he found out about that," Cheryl giggled. "He'd probably pass out back into a coma."

"So, every three months we get an extra hour if Archer is still in the coma?" Ray asked. "Sounds fair to me."

"Maybe once I get my certification I can strike out on my own?" Pam asked. "Go to another city and be a private eye!"

"Me too," Krieger said.

"I've been thinking of that," Ray nodded.

"I'm willing to take that risk," Cyril smirked. "I'll get you a map so you can move as **far** **away** from me as possible!"

"Or…" Ron said diplomatically. "You could think about going into a different field. Let's be honest. This group is more inclined to commit crimes than solve them."

Krieger paused. "You're not wrong."

"So, who has the most hours?" Pam asked. "Is it Lana? It's Lana isn't it?"

"I don't know for sure, okay?" Cyril snapped. "My ledger is back at the agency."

Pam pointed. "Well the first thing tomorrow morning you're gonna open that ledger and we're gonna find out!"

"Fine! We'll have a meeting in the morning!" Cyril said exasperated.

"Oh joy," Ray rolled his eyes. "Another meeting. Something to look forward to."

"I bet it's Lana," Pam said. "Just because he still has the hots for her."

"We'll talk about it in the **morning!**" Cyril snapped. "Can we talk about something else? **Anything else**? Please!"

Cheryl paused. "I wonder how unicorn steaks taste?"

"Probably taste like prime rib," Ray shrugged.

"How can they taste like prime rib?" Cyril asked. "They're basically horses with a strap on!"

"They're magical creatures!" Pam said. "They probably taste like cotton candy!"

"I bet a vampire would love a good unicorn steak all nice and bloody…" Krieger began.

"Are you kidding me?" Cheryl shouted.

"We've been **over** this!" Pam shouted. "Vampires **don't** eat unicorns!"

"Well not **anymore!**" Ray snapped. "Probably got hunted into extinction for their horns and vampire snacks."

"Unicorns are creatures of light," Pam snapped. "If a vampire bites a unicorn, he'll burn up! Case closed!"

"Cased **not **closed!" Cyril snapped. "They're not literally made of light! It's possible for a unicorn to be eaten by a vampire. Of course, the vampire would probably have to use a gun. Because you know? The horn would stab it."

"Vampires don't use guns!" Pam shouted.

"How do you know?" Ray asked. "Have you dated one lately or something?"

"I can't believe we are having this stupid argument again!" Cheryl groaned.

"**You're** the one who brought it up!" Krieger snapped. "Ron tell us what you think. Do you think vampires eat unicorns? And if they do, would they use a gun to shoot it?"

"I think you people have some of the weirdest conversations I've ever heard," Ron remarked.

"Well then **you** pick a topic," Cheryl snapped.

"He **did** remember?" Pam told her. "Didn't go so well."

"I remember something," Cyril realized. "Hang on…" He went up and left the room.

"He's gone! Hooray!" Cheryl cheered. Cyril walked back in. "Aww, he's back."

"I got these chat pack cards," Cyril showed them. "To improve my conversational skills."

"They do need improvement," Pam admitted.

"I'm guessing they also for the rest of the group, aren't they?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Cyril sat down. "I think will be good for all of us. Maybe not argue about vampires all the time?"

"We do need some better arguments," Ray admitted. "Okay Cyril. Hit us with one."

Cheryl giggled. "Not literally!" Ray snapped.

"Aww…" Cheryl pouted.

"Oh, here's a good one," Cyril said. "If snow could fall in any flavor, which flavor would you choose? I'd choose vanilla."

"Shocking," Ray rolled his eyes. "I'd pick cotton candy!"

"There's a stretch," Pam snickered. "Scotch!"

"Ooh, that's good one," Ray said. "Can I change mine?"

"I'll take scotch too!" Krieger said.

"Scotch," Ron admitted.

"Glue," Cheryl added. "And scotch ripple."

"Okay this is good," Cyril said. "Let's try this question: What is the one trip you have never taken, but would really like to take someday?"

"Personally, I think you guys should take a trip to reality someday," Ron shrugged. "But for myself, I've always wanted to go to London."

"I have never been to Germany," Krieger said. "I want to see my homeland."

"Your homeland is a destroyed laboratory in Brazil," Cyril said.

"My figurative homeland," Krieger shrugged.

"I want to go to Fiji," Ray sighed. "Or some tropical man whore island I've never been before. Where the men wear barely anything and anything goes after dark."

Pam grinned. "Me too!"

"I've always wanted to go to the Elevator Museum in Seattle," Cyril said.

"God even your dreams are boring," Cheryl groaned. "I wanna go to outer space!"

"You **have** been to outer space," Pam looked at her.

"Oh right," Cheryl said. "Okay then I want to go to Canada!"

"You **have** been to Canada," Ray said. "And **banned** from it."

"Oh yeah," Cheryl blinked. "I forgot. Nashville! Definitely Nashville!"

"You were there too," Krieger said.

"Branson then," Cheryl said.

"Been there," Ray said. "Almost destroyed that."

"Fine! Then **California!**" Cheryl snapped. "I want to go to California."

"That's where you are **now!"** Ray shouted.

"We **are**?" Cheryl blinked.

"YES!" Everyone shouted.

"Girl you gotta stop sniffing that glue," Ray groaned. "You don't know where you are or where you've been!"

"On the up side," Krieger remarked. "Every place is a new experience for her."

"Look just get me a map," Cheryl groaned. "Mark the places I **have **been and everywhere else I'll go!"

"I wish you would go," Ray grumbled. "To a mental health facility!"

"Me too," Pam sighed.

"Here's another one," Cyril said as he looked at another card. "When you look back on your life, what amazes you the most?"

"That I'm still alive," Ray admitted.

"Me too," Ron said.

"Yeah," Pam nodded. "I gotta agree with that one."

"I'm amazed Cheryl is still alive," Krieger said.

"I'm amazed Archer isn't dead yet," Cyril grumbled. "Although I shouldn't be…"

"Just gotta take your shots at Archer while you can, huh Figgis?" Pam grumbled.

"Can you **blame me** Pam?" Cyril shot back. "Can you really blame me?"

"Not really," Ray admitted. "Archer has been an asshole to all of us one way or another."

"That's true," Cheryl said. "No wonder Cyril is trying to get control of the agency away from Ms. Archer before Archer wakes up and beats the shit out of him."

"**What?"** Pam did a double take.

"_What_ did you just say?" Ron asked.

"Cheryl there's some glue down the street!" Cyril said. "Go get it!"

"Oh no," Cheryl said. "You're not fooling me with **that** again! Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twelve times, shame on me!"

"What's this about Cyril trying to take control of the agency?" Pam asked.

"It's nothing," Cyril waved. "Forget about it."

"I wasn't asking **you!**" Pam snapped. "Spill it, Neck Bird!"

"Oh **that,**" Cheryl waved as she took a drink. "One day when Ms. Archer was at the office and super plastered Cyril got her to sign a form giving him fifty one percent control over the agency. And she doesn't have a clue! HA!"

"WHAT?" Pam shouted.

"I **had** to!" Cyril snapped. "She was trying to sell pieces of my agency for a quick buck to line her pockets! I had to do it to protect what little we have before Mallory sells us all out of a job just for some expensive scotch!"

"I hate to say it," Ron sighed. "But Cyril has a point."

"You're on **his side**?" Pam gasped.

"You're on **hers?**" Ray asked.

"Yeah Ms. Archer is horrible," Cheryl said. "Good for Cyril for scoring one over that old bat!"

"Cyril is just trying to protect the business," Ron said. "Considering how much my wife has chiseled from me over the years I sympathize with him!"

"Thank you, Ron!" Cyril said. "I'm just doing what I have to do to protect our own."

"You mean _your own_," Krieger folded his arms. "How does this affect us? Does this mean we have less of a say in how the agency is run?"

"Since when do **you care** about how much of a say you have?" Cyril snapped.

"Since **now **damn it!" Krieger snapped.

"Is that why you've been dragging your feet on giving us hours?" Pam shouted.

"The fact that we've barely had any clients hasn't registered with you?" Ray snapped.

"Are we back on this **again**?" Cyril said. "I promised we'd go over the ledger in the morning! What's the rush?"

"What are **you** hiding?" Pam gave him a look.

"Are you taking any of Cheryl's groovy bears?" Cyril snapped. "Or back on the cocaine? Because that's the only reason I see for your pointless paranoia!"

"It's not paranoia if people are out to get you," Krieger pointed out.

"I just want what's mine!" Pam snapped. "I want what I've earned!"

"Please!" Cyril snapped. "If I did actually give you what you've **earned**, you'd have **no **hours at all!"

"Watch it bitch!" Pam snarled at Cyril.

"The only person here who has a legitimate complaint about not earning enough hours is **Cheryl!**" Cyril snapped. "And that's because she's the only one of us getting us any work with either her hairbrained schemes or all the **fires** she sets!"

"_What?"_ Ron did a double take.

"I have been bending over backwards to get you people hours!" Cyril shouted.

"Phrasing," Ray called out.

"Every time Cheryl sets a fire and we have to cover up her arson I give everybody at least half an hour!" Cyril snapped. "Sometimes a full hour to make it look good! And all you do is sit around making smart remarks and eating bearclaws!"

"Yeah!" Cheryl snapped. "I'm the one doing the work here!"

"_Arson?"_ Ron was stunned.

"Cyril does have a point," Krieger conceded.

"Here's a point!" Pam brandished her knife.

"Oh, put **that **away!" Ray snapped.

"Make me!" Pam snarled.

"Why are you so concerned about Ms. Archer all of the sudden?" Ray asked.

"If she had her way, you'd have been gone a long time ago!" Krieger pointed out.

"Most of us would be gone a long time ago!" Ray snapped.

"By the end of season three actually," Cheryl thought aloud.

Ray went on. "That woman would sell us all for a case of Grand Cru in a heartbeat! Why are you so loyal to her?"

"I'm not!" Pam snapped. "I just don't want to get railroaded! And I do care about Archer! I don't want to see him thrown out!"

"If I were you, I'd be more concerned about Ms. Archer pulling the plug on her son than anything Cyril does," Cheryl remarked. "Let's be honest. If he ever was on full life support. I'd give him a few days until Ms. Archer sees the hospital bill! Then…Beeeeeeeeeeep! Flatline City!"

"How much did you give my wife for those shares?" Ron asked.

"A bottle of Glengoolie Blue Archer stashed in his office," Cyril said. "She thought she was signing some kind of purchase order."

"That's another one of my wife's **sound business decisions**," Ron groaned. "To be fair, it's not her worst one."

"She hasn't realized it yet has she?" Ray asked.

"She has not," Cyril said. "And I think it's best nobody mentions it for now."

"You know what I think?" Pam said. "I think you're giving the most hours to Lana in some cockamamie scheme to get her to be a partner with you. And in your deranged mind, that would make it easier to screw her again!"

"That's completely…" Cyril flustered.

"Accurate?" Krieger asked.

"Shut up!" Cyril snapped at Krieger.

"Don't tell him to shut up!" Pam snapped.

"Don't tell **me** to shut up!" Cyril shouted. "**You** shut up!"

"NO, YOU SHUT UP!" Pam shouted as she brandished her knife again. "AFTER I MAKE YOU TALK!"

"MAKE ME!" Cyril pointed his knife at Pam.

"Such a nice lovely dinner we're having here," Ron groaned sarcastically.

"This is one of our better ones," Krieger admitted. Ron did a double take at him.

"You want to know who has the most hours, Motormouth?" Cyril shouted. "I'll **tell **you! It's **Ray**! There! _Happy?_"

"Not really," Pam said.

"_Him?"_ Ron pointed at Ray.

"Oh God," Cheryl laughed. "Lana is going to explode when she finds out!"

"HA!" Ray laughed at Pam.

"Why is **he** in the lead?" Pam pointed at Ray. "How did **that** happen?"

"I had Ray do a few…" Cyril paused. "Personal investigations for me."

"What do you mean by _personal investigations_?" Pam snapped. "What snake oil are you trying to sell me here? Ray what is he talking about?"

"I'm afraid I'm bound by client confidentiality," Ray said smoothly as he took a sip of wine. "I cannot in good conscience reveal information about my client."

"Especially if you want your damn two thousand hours!" Cyril snapped.

"Oh, I **get **it," Cheryl smirked. "That bad huh?"

"Oh yeah," Ray nodded.

"Wait what?" Pam did a double take. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh my God!" Cheryl was exasperated. "And you call yourself a **detective?**"

"I know, right?" Cyril remarked.

"Read between the **freaking lines!"** Cheryl snapped. "Cyril obviously got himself into some stupid super embarrassing situations and called on Ray to help him out. Ray got hours in exchange for keeping his mouth shut! DUH!"

"Again," Ray said. "Cheryl earns it more than you Pam."

"And you think I'm the **dumb one**?" Cheryl looked at Pam.

"There is a valid case for Cheryl being smarter," Krieger said.

"YEAH!" Cheryl picked up her knife, but pointed it at herself. "Get my point?"

"On the other hand…" Krieger groaned.

"For crying out loud!" Pam corrected Cheryl.

"Why do you always **correct** her?" Ray snapped. "Let her stab herself if she wants!"

"YEAH!" Cheryl shouted.

"I've felt safer eating with mobsters," Ron groaned.

"Have we settled **that** now?" Cyril snapped. "Are you **done **with your hissy fit Pam?"

Pam looked at Ray. "How bad are we talking about Ray? Are we talking about disposing of a dead hooker in his apartment bad?"

"THERE WERE NO HOOKERS!" Cyril shouted. "DEAD OR OTHERWISE!"

"So, it was **worse**?" Krieger asked.

"What could be worse than _hookers?_" Ron asked.

"You'd be surprised," Ray snickered.

"Don't say anything Ray!" Cyril pointed his knife at Ray.

Ray grabbed his knife and pointed it at Cyril. "Don't threaten me, Figgis!"

"Don't threaten him!" Cheryl pointed her knife at herself. Then turned it around. "Whoopsie!"

"Don't threaten anybody you idiot!" Pam pointed her knife at Cheryl.

"Don't call me, idiot!" Cheryl pointed her knife at Pam. "Idiot!"

"I want to threaten someone too!" Krieger pointed his knife at the group.

"ENOUGH!" Ron shouted and stood up, holding his knife. "ALL OF YOU CRAZY MOOKS SIDDOWN AND SHADDAP! UNLESS YOU LOT WANT A CINCINATTI APENDECTOMY!"

"Whoa…" Pam put her knife down.

"Easy there big guy," Ray put his knife down.

"We're just having a conversation here," Cheryl put her knife down. "Don't have a heart attack."

"Somebody has a temper," Krieger muttered as he put his knife down.

"Easy Ron," Cyril put his knife down and backed away. "Getting a little worked up here."

"**I'm** getting…?" Ron was stunned. He put the knife down and sat down. "Never mind…I am getting way too old for this…"

"Let's change the conversation to something a little tamer," Krieger paused. "And dignified."

Pam paused. "Belching contest?"

"Works for me!" Krieger burped.

"I'm going to clean the dishes now," Ray sighed as he got up. Krieger, Pam and Cheryl started burping.

"I'll help you," Cyril groaned.

"Me too," Ron got up with them and started taking plates into the kitchen.

"Sorry things got out of hand, Ron," Ray apologized.

"BURRP! BURRRRP! BURRRRRRRRRRRRP! BURP!"

"Eh," Ron waved. "Still better than some of the dinner theaters my dates used to drag me to."


End file.
